


Fish in a Tree

by Bedalk05



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley has a learning disability, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Shamelessly self-indulgent, you can't stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedalk05/pseuds/Bedalk05
Summary: Crowley has a secret that he has kept to himself for 6,000 years: he can't read.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	Fish in a Tree

_“I looked at my right hand, the hand with which I painted. There was power in that hand. Power to create and destroy. Power to bring pleasure and pain. Power to amuse and horrify. There was in that hand the demonic and the divine at one and the same time. The demonic and the divine were two aspects of the same force. Creation was demonic and divine. Creativity was demonic and divine. I was demonic and divine.”_  
-"My Name is Asher Lev", by Chaim Potok

Crowley loved the 21st Century. It had everything: capitalism, cars (the best invention of all humanity in Crowley’s opinion), a wide array of wines, rock music, and of course, technology. Currently, Crowley was enjoying several of these gift simultaneously: sipping wine and listening to music. Of course, given that he was currently lounging in Aziraphale’s shop, it wasn’t rock music, but the ancient record player could be called a piece of technology if one was being generous.

“My dear, you must read this passage!” Aziraphale exclaimed, breaking Crowley’s ruminations. Right! Of course, the best part of the 21st Century was finally being able to let his affections for his angel be known and spending time together without fear. 

This had become a bit of a routine lately; they would sit, sometimes in silence, reveling in each other’s company, and intermittently Aziraphale found a passage in the current book he was reading that he must share. Crowley’s response had become automatic at this point. Slipping on the glasses he wore less and less around Aziraphale Crowley replied confidently, “Why don’t you read it to me angel?”

He stiffened as Aziraphale shook his head and made his way toward the demon. “No, I must insist that you read it yourself,” Aziraphale stated firmly, striding over to wear the demon was lounging. “The meaning will be lost otherwise!”

Right. This was the one drawback of the 21st Century. Without the fear of being near each other, these instances of Aziraphale finding a passage he wanted Crowley to read had became more and more frequent. Up to this point however, Crowley was able to avoid this request by indicating his wish to listen to Aziraphale read it. 

Taking a slow breath, Crowley straightened in order to get a better view of the book. Ducking his head so he wouldn’t see his angel’s eager expression, Crowley furrowed his brow in concentration. Before him, the letters on the page wiggled around and contorted. As always, it was indecipherable. 

Nodding his head and humming Crowley remarked lightly, “You’re right angel, this is a wonderful passage.” After years of hiding behind lies and darkened shades, Crowley prayed to- whoever- that he sounded convincing. 

Avoiding the look of confused disappointment in his angel’s eyes, Crowley leaned back in his chair and drained the rest of his glass. “I was hoping for a bit more of an endorsement of this prose, my dear,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“Sorry angel, you know reading is more your thing than mine.” Internally wincing at the downcast gaze currently twisting Aziraphale’s ordinarily expressive face, Crowley sighed to himself, slumping further down in his chair. 

This was the secret he has carried with him since he fell into that pit of sulfur. Crowley can’t read. And it’s not from a lack of effort either! He’s had since the beginning of the written word to try after all. But no matter the language, no matter the length of time he stared at the page, Crowley just couldn’t decipher written text. 

He still recalled the first time Aziraphale rushed toward him with excitement gleaming in his eyes to show this new invention called a “book.” After sitting Crowley down to read the book out loud and show how the letters formed the words, he turned expectantly toward the demon to see what he thought. 

Crowley had stared at the page and idly wondered if the symbols were supposed to move around the page like that. Finally he had replied flippantly, ‘I dunno angel, seems like a passing fad to me.” 

How he wished that could be true. Then he wouldn’t have found himself in this current predicament. Then again, he wouldn’t be able to witness the joy his angel derived from reading either. 

Desperately wanting to wipe the expression off of Aziraphale’s face, a bolt of inspiration shot through him and Crowley suddenly sat up. After all, Crowley loved the 21st Century. It had everything: capitalism, cars (the best invention of all humanity in Crowley’s opinion), a wide array of wines, rock music, and of course, technology. And one of the best technological innovations of recent years was the audio book. 

Allowing a smile to slowly cross his face, Crowley took off his glasses to peer at his angel. “Maybe I read it too fast. Tell me the title again angel? I’ll have to read it on my own.” The grin that crossed Aziraphale’s face was more beautiful than any of the stars he had created in his lifetime. _Yes,_ Crowley thought. _I suppose it’s a good thing books have been invented after all._

**\---**

“How is the book so far?” Aziraphale asked Crowley as the demon entered the book shop. Since beginning to listen to the audio book, Crowley understood why Aziraphale seemed so insistent that Crowley read the text. The similarities between Crowley and the main character were uncanny. That is, if you replace “Jewish” with “angel” and “painter” with “asking questions.” Which, given the community’s responses to the character being a painter, isn’t too far of a stretch. 

Settling into his usual seat, Crowley poured himself a glass and smiled up at the angel. “It’s an excellent read Angel, I see why you recommended it to me.” Crowley hid the affectionate grin that broke across his face as Aziraphale began to wiggle with enthusiasm. That sight never grew old. 

Pouring them both a drink, Aziraphale sat across from Crowley and handed the demon his glass. “I can’t believe we never thought to do this before!” Aziraphale beamed. “We can be one of those classic couples that spends time in each other’s company reading and sharing passages that stand out to each of us.” 

Crowley froze mid sip as cold panic washed through him. _Fuck._ “I-I don’t know Angel, you do that enough for the both of us,” Crowley stuttered out with strained flippancy. 

Patting Crowley on his hand Aziraphale nodded. “That’s exactly the problem dear boy. I have been entirely too selfish! You know your thoughts are just as important as mine. AndI would love to hear prose being read in your wonderful voice.” Crowley couldn’t stand the look of sincerity and hope crossing Aziraphale’s face so he averted his eyes, tapping a finger on his glass rapidly. 

Before he could come up with a reason why that was an entirely bad idea, Aziraphale added sternly, “I hope you have been treating my copy well by the way. You know I’m not a library but I’m giving you special privileges and I won’t see you abuse them!” Crowley ignored the adorable finger wagging being sent his way and instead latched onto this perfect opening. 

“Right, that reminds me,” Crowley began, removing his glasses to meet Aziraphale’s gaze solemnly. “I happened to be drinking an excellent bottle of wine when I accidentally spilt it right across the book.” Ignoring the writhing guilt he felt over lying to Aziraphale, Crowley threw up his hands and imitated an explosion. “BOOM just like that there was no salvaging it! Not even with my demonic gifts.” 

Avoiding the look of disappointment being sent his way Crowley plowed on, brandishing his glass of wine. “So that’s that angel. I’m truly sorry but if there’s something to be learned it’s that I don’t think I can be trusted with such a responsibility as a book!” 

Satisfied to see that his ability to craft a convincing lie on the fly hadn’t waned since the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, Crowley drained his glass before settling it down. “Now come on angel, dinner’s on me as an apology.” As Crowley began walking away he missed the calculating look that crossed Aziraphale’s face. “Hmm.” 

“And as an extra apology I’ll even let you pick the music,” Crowley added as they both climbed into the car. At least, Crowley climbed in. Aziraphale had opened the door but now stood frozen looking at something at the seat. Starting the ignition Crowley laughed, “I know that’s a shock coming from me but-” Turning to look at Aziraphale Crowley realized the book the angel had lent him last week was still on the chair, untouched. 

He froze, staring at the book as though it would disappear if he glared at it long enough. Recovering quickly, Crowley shrugged. “I meant to tell you, I bought a new one for you as well!” Crowley lied smoothly. 

As he spoke his Bluetooth he recently hooked up connected. _Now I would have to paint the street that could not be seen_ the narrator of the audio book read, before Crowley shut it off. Picking up the book delicately, Aziraphale slowly sat in the seat and studied it. “Crowley, why are you lying to me?” Aziraphale asked, gaze still fixed on the book. 

Realizing he was caught, panic choked Crowley. He opened his mouth to find nothing could come out. Swallowing furtively Crowley cleared his throat. “Come again?” He asked weakly. 

Turning his piercing gaze at the demon Aziraphale said grimly, “This has the exact bends and creases as my book. If you didn’t like it you could have just returned it.” Turning to the radio he furrowed his brow with confusion. “But then why would you be listening to it?” Damn the angel’s celestial memory. 

A new lie was on the tip of his tongue and Crowley opened his mouth to allow it to spill out before closing it again. Guilt and panic gripped his stomach like a meal of rotten meat. Crowley had always avoided lying to Aziraphale unless it was connected to his safety, and yet here he was, lying over something so trivial. Sighing, Crowley bowed his head.. In this case he hadn’t been lying to protect Aziraphale, only to protect himself. The aftertaste of the wine he had drunk minutes ago now turned to the bitter taste of shame like bile in his throat. 

Removing his glasses, Crowley met Aziraphale’s patient gaze, the hurt in his eyes constricting his heart. Crowley fiddled with his glasses for a silent moment as he scrambled with what to say. Placing his glasses in his collar to prevent him from fidgeting further, Crowley clasped his hands together and stared at them intently. “I can’t read,” he confessed softly. 

p>As Crowley said those words out loud a confusing sense of relief and terror ran rampant through the demon and he closed his eyes tightly to try to rein himself in. He jolted as a pair of hands gently plucked his from the now broken shards of his glasses. Crowley hadn’t realized he picked them up again, let alone that he crushed them in his efforts to control his emotions.

With a defeated sigh Crowley snapped the now ruined pair away before making fists to prevent himself from launching in the glove box for a new pair to place on his face. He desperately needed that barrier between himself and Aziraphale but knew he needed to face the angel head on. 

“I’m sorry for lying to you angel.” Crowley silently chastised himself as his voice cracked and he could feel tears prickling his eyes. Staring at his trousers intently Crowley took a steadying breath and continued. “I didn’t want to disappoint you and it’s just embarrassing. I’ve just always thought, ‘hey better off pretending I don’t care for reading than admit I’ve never been able to learn.’” By the time Crowley finished speaking his voice had reached a point of hysteria as tears of shame began flowing freely down his face past his closed eyes. 

He flinched as a soft hand gently cradled his cheek and tilted him to look at the angel. “Will you look at me please dear?” Aziraphale asked softly. Forcing his eyes open Crowley looked at Aziraphale helplessly to find a crease of concern marring the angel’s brow. Brushing aside the demon’s tears, Aziraphale leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Crowley’s forehead. 

The demon sagged from this small gesture of comfort and leaned further into the angel’s touch. Pressing their foreheads together Aziraphale murmured, “I am so sorry this has caused you so much pain my love. I hope you know I don’t think less of you for it.” 

Shaking his head rapidly as guilt continued to churn his stomach Crowley rasped, “I know you would never angel.” Shrugging helplessly he explained, “S’just embarrassing y’know? I’ve been around since the invention of reading and yet I can’t do something as simple as that!” 

Tsking at the demon’s self-recrimination Aziraphale chastised, “Now, enough of this self-deprecation my dear; it’s not your fault. It’s out of your control ” At this Crowley stared at Aziraphale in disbelief. 

“Didn’t you hear what I just said angel?” 

Humming, Aziraphale nodded before smiling gently at the demon. “You remind me of this quote I read once my dear. _When you plant lettuce, if it does not grow well, you don't blame the lettuce. You look into the reasons it is not doing well. It may need fertilizer, or more water, or less sun. You never blame the lettuce.”_

Crowley took a moment to let the words sink in before snorting softly. “I know how much you love eating angel but did you just compare me to a piece of food?” Huffing indignantly Aziraphale sat back in his seat, releasing the demon from his grasp. Crowley let out a bereft whine before he could stop himself, causing an affectionate smirk to play at the angel’s lips. 

“See if I’ll be so kind next time you decide to fall down a well of self-hate and guilt,” Aziraphale huffed, humor tinging his words. 

Sobering, Crowley shrugged helplessly. “I just don’t understand how I’m not to blame,” he stated simply. “I’ve clearly just not tried enough.” 

Aziraphale studied Crowley intently for several moments before snapping his fingers and brandishing a hand mirror in front of the demon. “What do you notice Crowley?” the angel inquired. 

“You mean beyond my devilishly good looks?” Crowley asked smugly. “No pun intended,” he added with a smirk. 

Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale remarked, “To clarify, what’s different between your eyes and my own?” Frowning, Crowley studied the two sets of eyes he had known for 6,000 years. “I’m sorry that it never crossed my mind, considering how much research has been done on reading, but my love” Here Aziraphale’s voice gentled- “Your eyes are not made to read.” 

Despair crashed over Crowley like a tidal wave. It was fine when he thought he couldn’t read from lack of effort or something, but learning that he was _made_ this way felt somehow worse. Snapping the mirror away again, Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s hands, tugging on them so the demon would look at him. 

“I don’t want to give you hope my dear but perhaps I can try some techniques used to teach people with dyslexia and sight impairments how to read. I can’t guarantee them working but if you’re interested it can’t help to try?” At the angel’s words a flicker of hope sparked in Crowley’s chest alongside confusion.

Tilting his head Crowley repeated, “Dyslexia?” 

Nodding eagerly, Aziraphale explained, “It’s a phonological processing disability that impairs an individual’s ability to read. Historically, people believed it had to do solely with a person’s vision but now they’ve learned otherwise. The techniques used to help with this disability alongside others could be beneficial though.” 

Blinking slowly Crowley shook his head. “You’ll have to speak English if you want to teach me how to read in it,” he remarked wryly. Rolling his eyes affectionately, Aziraphale brushed his fingers gently along the demon’s knuckles.

“What do you think? Want to try?” 

Taking a slow breath, Crowley nodded. “I won’t get my hopes up but yeah, why not?” Beaming, Aziraphale wiggled happily in his seat before softly kissing his demon. 

“Now, that that’s settled, I look forward to this lovely meal you’ll be paying for,” Aziraphale sighed benignly, raising a challenging brow as the demon sputtered in response. “And none of this book tape hogwash while I’m in the car!” He exclaimed. “If you would like to listen to a book read, I will happily do the honors.” 

Crowley's heart clenched with a burst of joy at Aziraphale's words. How he loved his angel and the spark of bastardy he possessed. As Aziraphale flipped to the correct page of the book, Crowley pulled out of his parking spot with a relieved sigh. Even if this whole learning to read thing doesn’t work out, it’s a good thing Crowley will always have his own personal audio book.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I made Crowley functionally dyslexic in this fic because I can. No, vision impairments/quirks are not the leading cause of dyslexia. The title is a reference from a famous quote by Albert Einstein about teaching. (Fun fact: Einstein had dyslexia.) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! All mistakes are my own. Comments are always appreciated! I hope you enjoyed :-)


End file.
